


Bang, and the truth is out

by Mattioso



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Harry, BAMF Neville, Gryfindor Neville, Menor(ish) Snape, Mentor Dumbledore, Slytherin Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-29 23:03:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17212520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mattioso/pseuds/Mattioso
Summary: Harry has lived an unremarkable life as a background Slytherin, with an unlickely friend as a companion, being hated by his Housemates for being the Boy Who Lived, and hated by the rest of the school for being a Slytherin Boy Who Lived. Yet, Harry has never been unremarkable, and soon the truth of what has really being going on under Dumbledore's large nose comes out.





	1. The goblet starts spitting

**Author's Note:**

> I, very clearly, do not own Harry Potter  
> Please drop a comment, or some Kudos

The morning dawned as bright as all others in Hogwarts. The transfigured window seat creaked underneath me as I looked out across the grounds; the lawns leading all the way down to the edge of the darkness that was the forest, and the start of a smoke trail leading from Hagrid’s hut. The book on warding runes was left open on my lap as I looked out across the grounds, smiling as the sun started to light up the day.

 

I slipped my leather bookmark into the tome and slipped the book into my bag for later reading. Readjusting my green and silver tie, I stood and began the walk from my alcove back down to the great hall. The house-elves began breakfast at sunrise, and it stayed out all the way until classes started, no matter when sunrise was. The hall would be crowded today, there were only so many hours to eat when the day was started so late.

 

I ate at the end of the Slytherin table, as far from the other few fellow snakes as I could be. It was mutually beneficial; I didn’t inflict myself on them and they left me alone. Quickly wolfing my meal down, I walked from the hall, ready to face another day. Only three more years, I was just about half way through.

 

The day passed as slow as ever, with insults from both sides. The Gryffindors hated me because I was a Slytherin, and I didn’t fit the story’s they had been told about me adventures, when in reality I was at the Dursleys, and the Slytherins hated me because I was Harry Potter, the boy who killed their master and robbed them of there rightful place in the world. But I kept my head down and learnt as much as I could, while only showing a slither of what I was capable; the teachers always got so excited when I showed my true potential, then it got harder in Slytherin for a while.

 

Lunch was even more painful, what with me at one end of the table and the rest of the Slytherin crowding up at the other. None wished to experience Malfoy’s wrath, what with him being the true power in Slytherin at the moment. The politics made me want to scream, then curse them. It was all so pointless, yet they stuck to there dances and ignored the real power people had.

 

Yet more boring lessons, with content I had covered years ago. Necessity was the greatest motivator after all, and I needed those skills years ago. A first year Harry Potter with no prior knowledge of the world I had been trust into; into the snake pit itself. The transfiguration skills had been needed when my quills would go missing, then my bag, item after item. Never to be seen again.

 

The food at diner was as exemplary as ever, with the house elves cooking it wouldn’t be any less. Even with new recipes coming with the other schools, they cooked it all like it was there signature dish. I smiled to myself, then looked down the table at where Malfoy was holding court. Krum was sat next to him, and his expression hadn’t changed since he sat down; bored disinterest under a thin veneer of attentiveness. But Malfoy was too busy peacocking to notice how little Krum actually cared about what he was saying. It did wonders for my amusement, seeing the blonde Hair of House Malfoy make an utter fool of himself in front of the created Viktor Krum.

 

I ate as fast as I usually did, but this was one meal I couldn’t miss out on; what with the champion selection. Instead, I pulled out the warding book and opened it, losing myself in the rules of what runes to place where while creating a complex rune array. It was a whole different set of principles form the Ancient Greek runes I used before, but some of the Nordic runes would integrate nicely with my bed scheme. Not even a seventh year could get through them as they are now, but one could always improve.

 

After all the plates had been cleared (which had taken an age, some people failed to realize meals are for eating, and not for talking about nonsenses with friends they would spend the rest of the evening with) Dumbledore called for attention from the hall. I smirked as the hall immediately went quiet, showing the awe all the students held Dumbledore in; even the Slytherins didn’t dare talk while Dumbledore himself was asking for their attention.

 

He smiled as the anticipatory faces swung towards him. “The time has come!” He called out over us, while putting out the fires around the hall with an impressive display of wandless magic. Or a runic array in the hall that was configured to his magical core, but that was irrelevant. The gesture had done as the old wizard had intended, the hall was filled with gloom and the anticipation had built to almost uncomfortable heights. “To choose the Tri-wizard Champions of our three schools. The goblet is nearly ready.”

 

As he said it, the goblet’s flames burst blue, bathing the hall in ethereal light. I could feel the waves of magic coming off the goblet as it scanned the hall for the magic off its chose. A burnt piece of parchment was blown out of the top, slowing at the top of its ark, then landing neatly in Dumbledore’s hands. A masterful piece of showmanship. “The champion for Durmstrang is Viktor Krum.” The fur covered seeker rose awkwardly from his chair, amidst the applause of the entire hall. He walked, as duck-footed and awkward as ever, to the door Dumbledore pointed out, with a small smirk adorning his face.

 

A few seconds after the door closed, I felt the goblet searching again. This time, I felt the tendril of magic hit the champion, drawing my eye to her. Fleur Delacour, the half Vela that had all the boys (and most of the girls) in a tizzy. My eyes flickered back to Dumbledore at the front of the hall, just as he caught the parchment. “And the champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour.” Her schoolmates’ reactions were vastly different from Durmstrang’s, while they celebrated their champion selection, several of the other girls had burst into tears at Fleur’s selection.

 

You could feel the Hogwarts kids’ anticipation at the next selection, knowing this was the most relevant to them. The seventh years were leaning forward in excitement, each convinced they would be chosen. I smirked at the memory of Flint making a bet with his classmates that he would be picked; if he was picked as the best representation of Hogwarts, I was leaving. I felt the magic reach out and touch its champion. It was the Hufflepuff seeker, Cedric Diggory. Dumbledore’s voice echoed through the hall a few moments later, confirming I was right.

 

I reopened my book, confident that the boring and, frankly, overdone ceremony was over. But my sense picked up a searching presence yet again, making me look up towards the goblet. It was still blue. That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it? Whispers burst out around the hall at the goblet’s strange behaviour. Dread filled me as the tendril of magic hit me, just as the goblet spat out a fourth piece of parchment. Dumbledore caught it, his lines on his face even more pronounced from worry. He unfurled the paper and read out two words. “Harry Potter.” I cursed under my breath, I never could have a normal Halloween.


	2. The aftermath of aforementioned spitting

I stood, the world around me seemed to slow. The entire hall turned to glare at me, many muttering to each other about unfairness; all eyes were on me. I began to move up the hall, every footfall echoing through the silent hall. Every head tracked my progress, watched every footfall as it landed. It was as I began to walk up the steps to the door when the calls came. Shouts and jeers followed me as I closed the heavy wooden door behind me, muffling the sounds from the hall.

 

The other champions just looked confused, except Diggory. He glared at me, immediately suspicious of me being here. “What are you doing here, Potter?” I didn’t answer, only moving father into the room. Trophy’s adorned the walls in glass cabinets, flinging the low lights around the room in dizzying patterns and reflections, mirroring the turmoil that was filling me. Only an excellent grip on my magic had stopped a response in the hall, and I wasn’t sure how long I could keep my control when the teachers burst in here.

 

As if my thought had summoned them, the entire staff, it seemed, burst into the room. Dumbledore was at the lead, and he walked calmly towards me; his relaxed attitude a complete contrast to the rest of the staff. He didn’t even look at the other champions, his entire focus on me. A brief tickle on my mental shields showed he wanted to be sure I was telling the truth. “Mr. Potter, did you put your name in the goblet of fire?”

 

I stood tall, confident that I wasn’t lying, for once. “No.” It was simple, yet it got the message across. The room exploded into shouts and cries, each yelling for there own opinion to be heard over all the rest. Fools. If they believed I could completely to the headmaster they were stupid; he had been practicing legilimency longer than I had been alive, and a blatant lie was the hardest to conceal.

 

Dumbledore looked away from me, his face clouded with worry. I smirked internally at his discomfort, the old fool deserved all of it, and more. “He didn’t put his name in the goblet. I don’t know any more than that.” He told the room, which exploded again.

 

Eventually, Moody lost his temper. “Quiet! First, if Dumbledore says the Potter lad didn’t put his name in the goblet, I believe him. Second, why do you think he is capable? By all accounts, he is a mediocre wizard at best with no where needed the skill to compete in a competition like this. If anyone should be complaining, it should be Potter, but I don’t hear him saying anything. Do you?”

 

At this, Delacour swelled up with indignation. “Well, of course he isn’t complaining, this is a chance we have been waiting weeks and weeks for this! He is getting an opportunity many would die for!” She was working herself up to a full-blown temper tantrum in her indignation. It wouldn’t be long before she started to stomp her foot at the unfairness of it all and started to cry for mommy if she continued in this vein.

 

Moody spoke up before it reached this point. “Maybe someone is hoping the Potter boy does die for it! There’s plenty of You-Know-Who’s followers still around.” Was it my imagination, or did Moody’s gaze flick to Karkaroff when he said this?

 

McGonagall gasped at Moody’s inference. “But Allister, what a thing to suggest!” She was looking disapproving over the entire room, as if she would like nothing more than to take house points from the lot of them; though it could have just been her distaste at Delacour’s childish behaviour.

 

The old Auror just laughed darkly. “What, you don’t think the lad has enemy’s? He is enemy number one on every Dark Wizard kill list in the country.”

 

Crouch intervened in the argument before it could really start. “This changes nothing; the rules are clear. The Potter boy must compete, that is final.” Shouts filled the room again.

 

I zoned the argument after that, knowing there was nothing I could say that would convince anyone who believed me guilty that I was innocent, but would probably do the inverse. Instead, I began to plan for how I was going to survive this; Moody was right, this was a calculated enemy movement. No student, except maybe myself with lots of research, could perform a Confundus charm with enough power to stop the goblet, so it needed to be a member of staff. The only candidate I could think of was Karkaroff; any teacher other than Moody would have acted far before now, and Moody had filled half the cells in Azkaban, or so they said. Maxime was a half giant, which no pure blood would accept into there camp, so it couldn’t be here. Therefore, it had to be Karkaroff, but why?

 

While I had been thinking my way through the problem, the discussion had wrapped up, leaving everyone unhappy. A glaring Snape tapped me on the arm and gestured for me to follow him from the room. I did so without complaint, very glad to be out of the stifling atmosphere of the Trophy room. The dark potions master strode though the halls, very nearly leaving me behind on a few occasions, making me fee like a lost puppy trailing in its owner’s wake. It took me a moment to realise that we weren’t heading towards the Slytherin common room but towards Snape’s office. That made me far more nervous than I would ever admit; only the worst offenders got dragged into Snape’s office to be dealt with.

 

After several more minuets of walking, we were before Snape’s heavy-set wooden door to his office. The wards around the room engulfed me at least a meter from the door; they felt like a heavy blanket had just been laid over my magical senses, muffling the entire area, hiding just what wards there were.

 

Snape threw the door aside and gestured me inside. He was most certainly not in the mood for mind games, so I followed the instruction without complaint. The tall figure moved across the room and sat himself in the chair behind his desk. Not even for a moment did he stop glaring; it seemed to be etched on his face. A pale finger came out from under the black robes and gestured at the chair opposite the dark oak desk. I sat in the hard-backed seat, hoping to every deity I could think of that no emotion would show on my face.

 

Finally, he spoke, his voice colder than ice. “What do you think your playing at, Potter?” I looked up at him, feeling the Legilimency crash up against my makeshift barriers. He stayed at the edges of my mind, but he would know if I lied.

 

I took a deep breath, then spoke calmly. “I didn’t enter my name into the cup, professor.”

 

His dark eyes glared at me still. “You are aware, I assume, that you are now a target? Neither Slytherin nor any of the other houses will help you.”

 

I couldn’t hold my smirk off my face at that. “And they have before, professor? I’ve been a target for my entire time here. The Gryffindor Slytherin to my housemates, and the corrupted dark wizard to the rest of the school.”

 

The potion master was still glaring at me. “Make light of your situation all you want, the rest of Slytherin will not be amused at this and they will seek you out for reparations.” He turned away from his desk and began to pace the room, his clock billowing spectacularly behind him.

 

I decided to take a chance. “Professor, as much as I appreciate the concern, I am more than capable of dealing with the Slytherins.”

 

He turned sharply at that, his glare still firmly in place. “You think you can hold up to the entirety of Slytherin house? You’re a fool; not even your father was as arrogant as that.” He practically spat at me.

 

“That’s not what I meant sir. I am capable of avoiding my housemates at all times, after all, I am well practiced.” I was dropping as many clues as I could that he should let me deal with this, but he still wouldn’t let it go.

 

At my words he turned away again. “If you feel equipped to deal with your housemates, as you so surely seem to be, leave.” Smiling quietly to myself, I left the dark office and walked slowly back to the Slytherin common room.

 

My plan was very simple. Burst into the room with the strongest shield I could manage and run for the stairs down. Once I was in my bed, and the wards active, no one could reach me. Years of developing those ward schemes had paid off; I was confident that they would be unbreachable to all in the school, except the teachers.

 

My wand was in my hand as I murmured the password and slipped through the portrait. What seemed like the entirety of Slytherin were in the room, all staring straight at me. “Potter,” Malfoy began, “what on earth do you think you are playing at?”

 

I would have placed good money on Malfoy thinking he was actually in charge here, but my eyes were on the sixth and seventh years that were arranged at before the arch that lead to the dorms. “I was thinking, Malfoy, that I didn’t put my name in that goblet.”

 

The blond ponce laughed at that. “Do you take me for a fool, Potter?” He drew his wand theoretically. “I suppose I’ll have to teach you proper respect.”

 

My mind was running through as many different resolutions as possible, yet there only seemed to be one. “Okay, Malfoy, just you and me. I win, and these lot,” I gestured at the rest of the room with a casual flick, “will let me through.”

 

Malfoy smiled, one I assumed he thought made him look intimidating when it really just made him look stupid. “Of course, Potter. But it isn’t going to happen. Stupefy!”

 

I dogged the spell with seekers grace and yelled the same incantation. Malfoy was completely unprepared for any retaliation and fell flat on his face. I smiled at the other Slytherins. “Goodnight.” And with that, I walked from the room and fell into my bed, confident in the ward scheme protections.


End file.
